sleight of hand
by valakaite
Summary: Wheatley crashes to earth and Chell helps him while he slowly recovers. drabblefic
1. Chapter 1

He fell. He fell through fire and the pressure, stripping him of everything he had left. The atmosphere was eating him alive as he reentered only to make him know of the rapidly approaching earth below him. For the moment, he screamed. He screamed his apologies and his fears. The noise being overcome by the wind and burning. He had no other option though as he slowly shut down.

He wasn't awake for the impact.

When he did wake his body was broken. He couldn't move and was only vaguely aware that something was horribly wrong. He was only vaguely aware of everything. He knew he hurt and he was broken, but that was the extent. He felt something leaking somewhere and his plates shifting over each other. It was almost too much to bear.

He wasn't sure on time, it could have been an hour, it could have been a week. He skipped in and out unaware of everything around him. Till he felt something move him, pry itself into the rock he had melted onto and pop him off. It scraped up his insides and carried him roughly.

He wasn't awake for the travel.

He reawoke to a cold and flat surface beneath himself. It didn't hurt as much but he wasn't in any big hurry to be moving around either. In contrast to whatever he was lying on there was something on him that was warm, nice, a subtle hint of something he'd forgotten. He tried to open his eyes only to find they didn't work. He doubted anything would work.

Drifting in and out of consciousness he felt he had been there for a while. Each time he woke up he felt better though, as if the thing was working on him while he were asleep. He couldn't bring himself to give it much thought though.

The next time he woke it was with much more clarity. He knew he hurt, and he knew he couldn't move. He tried to speak but all he could muster was a shaken breath. A warm hand cupped his cheek, following his jawline and down his throat, only to repeat the process. It was comforting he decided after the fifth or so stroke. He relaxed a bit, wishing he could see the person. Maybe it was her.

After living alone for years, she had finally come to the conclusion that yes, she was the only living human on the planet. If there were others they were so few and far between that she held little to no hope of ever finding them. When she heard the crash she automatically knew something was up.

The smoldering crater surrounded by the glowing embers of his impact is what she found. By the time she had crawled to the center of the wreckage to see his twisted and burned form she didn't expect to be alive. Aperture was full of surprises it seems.

The rock he had hit had been melted to him. Judging by the way he looked and the surrounding crater, she suspected he had been burned alive during his reentry. She remembered something about being able to survive extreme temperatures, survival apparently, but not unbroken.

She pried him from the earth and carried him home. He was smaller than she remembered. A small skinny damaged thing that would die soon. She kept thinking she ought to let him. After so long though, most of the animosity she held for him had simply gone. She remembered that he was kind to her, as was GLaDOS. Kindness could only go so far. She was upset, but she was lonely. She was in need of something, in need of anything.

He quivered in her arms, but already she could see he was healing. It must be the nanobots that covered him on the inside and out. Aperture was amazing. She wasn't sure she could have fixed him if she wanted to.

He lay on the floor of her cabin, a blanket tossed over him for decency's sake. He moved on occasion, sparking or mumbling to himself. She could never figure out what he was doing till the light in his chest returned.

She kneeled by his side and stroked his face. He didn't respond to it and she thought that perhaps he hadn't awoken but then he seemed to settle into the blanket a bit, a small smile forming on what was left of his face. His shoulders stirred, presumably to reach up to touch her hand, but it seemed he couldn't bear to reach.

She gave him a small smile, and he opened his eyes. They were glassy and unseeing. He closed them again and turned his head into her hand, nuzzling against it.

She pulled it away when it appeared he had fallen asleep again.

He was getting better, his skin seemed to be coming back and the small wires and plates seemed to be fixing. Each time he woke he woke with more clarity and would stay awake longer. His first words were along the lines of "hello" and static with coughing. She would respond quietly, not wanting to give in to the robots at aperture she never spoke in the facility.

They were outside now though.

She hadn't spoken to anyone in years, it was just her. a strange sort of cabin fever will creep up without contact, even when she had GLaDOS's simple insults it was at least something, but out here there was nothing. To hear him cough and sputter only to get out a single choked word meant so much that she was willing to answer.

He didn't recognize the voice. It was soft and female though, and kind, just like the hand was kind. "who a-a- who are you?" He asked.

She didn't respond to that immediately, simply stroking the back of his head again. she wished he could see her so she didn't have to tell him, she wasn't even sure he knew her name. "you know me" Chell responded softly.

He smiled and pulled his eyebrows together "I" tszzzt "d-do?"

"Wheatley," she caught her breath "I am Chell" she whispered. At the moment, the fact she was talking to another being was enough she felt like she could cry.

He didn't answer her. Rather he did start crying, and then promptly shut off again.

She let him sleep. Covering him with the blanket and wiping her eyes. "This can be good" she whispered solemnly to herself. "Yes, this can be good"


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up the next day with a strange feeling. Chell. It was her, the girl he had thought of for so long in the hardship in space and after. He opened his mouth to speak but found that his vocal capabilities had shut off again. and he still could not see. That is what bothered him the most. He could only judge his surroundings by what he thought they were, the hard floor yet the soft covering-a blanket.

He lift himself on his arms only to have them quake and wind up back on the floor. He curled around himself and lay there for a moment before attempting it again. he put more pressure on his hips and before he knew it, he was on his hands and knees. He wasn't too sure if he actually wanted to get up; he just wanted to see if he could.

With his eyes out of commission he decided that he'd better not attempt it, and sat back against the wall, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He was feeling better he decided, still not up to par, but not a useless pile of scrap either. He hurt, but he could move, and right now that was good enough for him.

He leaned his head back against the wall and listened to what he could hear, a soft wind and the light chirping of birds in the distance. His processor told him they were far away and probably wouldn't hurt him. He hoped it was right and tried to relax again. Wind is a strange thing to listen to having never heard it. Sure he had heard the blowers, fans, and vents in aperture, but the real thing that wasn't interrupted by mechanical squeaks and the soft hum of electricity.

It was calming, a soft whisper in his tired ear. He didn't want to admit it but even the birds were sort of nice as well, accenting the slow whispers that filled the silence.

A soft clink came from the other room followed by footsteps so where he was sitting. It was her. He tensed up as he felt a hand gently pat his head.

She slid down the wall to sit next to him, her hand leaving his head to brush along his shoulder. He opened his mouth as if to speak but nothing came out, his hand raised to his throat and he looked away, glassy eyes looking ashamed of himself.

She knew he was sorry, as time ate away at her ability to stay away from other people, she certainly had enough time to think and critique what had happened in the lab. Clearly he hadn't meant for the outcome that had happened, but it didn't change the fact it did happen. She was still mildly miffed at the experience, but for the most part she had forgiven him, wanting only to hear his voice or to see him do something. Her need for companionship had won out over the battle of whether or not to let him be.

He cringed away from her touch, but it only made her touch him more, both her hands found the sides of his face and made him look at her. it was obvious he couldn't see, his eyes glassy and staring straight ahead. She brushed her thumb over his cheek and sighed, pressing her face into his chest and holding him there.

He didn't know what to do. He had to ask for her forgiveness but it seems his voice failed him again, yet there she was in his lap, her head to his chest and stroking his face. It was very odd and yet he couldn't say he minded it. Maybe she would kill him later, and this was just to make him trust her.

He would be damned if it wasn't working though. The solidity of another body against him, the sweet touches and caresses he never got before in his entire life were now being given to him by someone he thought he would have to beg not to kill him. He too was a victim of loneliness.

He slowly curled his weak arms around her, and held her close, like he had wanted to during aperture.

It would have been sweeter had he not shut down again and fallen on top of her.

She crawled out from under him and pushed him back into a resting position, pulled the blanket over him again, and left the room.

Immediately after she stopped and was filled with the urge to hit herself, what was she thinking? Last time they had talked he had tried to kill her, and yet there she was crawling all over him like he was the last thing on earth she lived for.

The ability to touch someone was a strange thing.

She stalked off to her own room and left him there for the rest of the day, not bothering to check if he woke again.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning he started very slow. Something was wrong, he was getting better but this time he just dragged. He could barely move himself, let alone have any hope of seeing or speaking as earlier. He lay on the floor and gasped for breath he didn't need. Somehow the rhythm of his breath made the whole process just easier for him to take.

When she came in an hour later it was already apparent something was wrong. It was almost that he was seizing, his breaths sharp and with each a jerk from his stomach that would shake his entire being. She slowly knelt beside him and let a hand on his back, he was still in an instant, his face twisting into a silent wail of anguish.

She flipped him onto his back and slowly began to remove the clothes she had given him. The loose shirt came off with ease but what lay underneath scared her. his chest and stomach were a mottled mess of greens and purples, bruises with old pooled blood beneath the surface. She cupped his face and was silently glad he couldn't see, lord knows how he'd react.

She knew he was beaten, falling form space and landing violently would do that, but she could have sworn the nanobots were doing something to help. He gasped again. in the state he was she had no choice but to take pity on him, hoisting his small frame by the underarms and carrying him into her bedroom she lay him on the bed.

He was unconscious again by the time she actually got him situated. The fact he didn't actually breathe in his sleep worried her, but the slow thump of the pulse in his wrists put her slightly at ease. She sat at the other side of the bed, and lay next to him after a moment.

She didn't know what to do with him. She didn't know if he would get better or if he would actually die. She wasn't aware of anything from aperture actually dying. She remembered the turrets, but she always assumed they simply shut down and turned off, not that they died. She sighed and turned to look at him, running her knuckles over his pale cheek.

He didn't wake the next day.

She was worried sick, but still had to go about her normal routine. Going into town and gathering the supplies for the week. It was getting more and more scarce and hard to find what she needed. This coupled with the fact she didn't even know if there was other life out there somewhere week after week made her slip into a sort of depression that Wheatley's arrival had shaken her out of.

She was afraid of what she may do if he were to go.

She drug her loot from the town back to her hovel and arranged it accordingly, got in the bed beside Wheatley again and checked his pulse. The slow but steady thumping was a reminder that things may not be that bad.

She looked at his face, the soft yet somehow gaunt curves of his features unmoving yet somehow still alive. She pitied him. Curing around him, she fell asleep slowly.

He woke up the next morning. The world was fuzzy and full of haze, but he could see and feel again. he let out a raspy breath that told him he could talk as well. He tried to get up but felt something restraining him around his middle. He nearly panicked before he saw the honey colored arm. Wheatley turned over slightly to see if it was true, if it really was her.

He gingerly slid his knuckles over her cheek and watched as she woke up. Her eyes opening slowly and blinking several times before she realized what had happened. She grinned and infectious grin that he caught as well. Her hand joined his on her face and they simply lay there for a while, looking at each other.

He rested his forehead against hers and whispered his apologies. She whispered for him to shush as he began to cry, falling silent in the bed. Pulling him close, she rested his head in the crook of her neck, hand rubbing at the back of his head to soothe him.

He didn't know a time when he felt worse or happier at the same time.


	4. Chapter 4

They lay there for a rough half hour, him sobbing out his apologies and she trying to relax him. Between hiccupping gulps of air that made his middle hurt he clasped on to her, unwilling to let her go again. While she was perfectly happy in letting him do this there was a limit to how long before his recovering cyborg body got hot enough to actually cause her discomfort.

She slid him off of her and went to get a wet rag for his forehead. He called back after her, trying to hoist himself out of the bed to follow her but unable to push through the pain in his middle to sit upright. With a groan he fell back into the bed and waited, listening to her use the sink and close drawers.

When she returned he had calmed himself to a fairly normal breathing rate. He watched her as she slid the rag around his head and neck, cooling him off for the time being. He smiled and sunk into the coolness before he felt an arm around his back, lifting him up off the bed.

He leaned himself into her weight as she stood him up, explaining to him that as much as she liked him she can't have him in her bed all day. He seemed upset at the notion he'd have to go back on the floor. Not that he wasn't used to sleeping on floors, beds in aperture were a rare treat outside of the relaxation centers. Having tried a real bed, and sunk into its worn comfort any other sort of sleeping arrangement seemed unfair in his eyes.

She set him on the couch and laid him back, bringing the blanket he was using earlier over to him. He decided that the couch was in fact rather comfortable and he could sleep very well on it. Chell figured that he would sleep anywhere as long as she was the one who told him to do so.

She had her rations set out that she had gathered earlier and a thought came to her, if he eats or not. He was in fact rather skinny and seemed lethargic. She didn't know if that was from his injuries or the fact that he probably hasn't seen anything to eat in…a very long time.

While he slept in her living room she thought about her plans, having to gather supplies for two people, finding enough food for two people in the first place. If he even ate. If he didn't eat then she had another set of hands to help gather her own supplies; If he could keep track that long. She suspected he could probably do that much.

She tapped the side of his head, waking him from his slumber and asked about food. The general concept seemed confusing to him so she decided that, no, he doesn't eat. He then went on to say that the nanobots keep him running, they were running through his veins and healing him at the moment. She did think he looked better than a few days ago.

He tried to nestle back into the couch for more sleep only to have her tap at his head again, asking him if he had any "needs" that would have to be taken care of. He gave her a non-committal shrug and passed out, eyes rolling to the back of his head. That was the third time that had happened. She wondered if it was him or his computer parts in his body that was making him do that. She could fix him, she knew that, but fixing the tech inside of him? That was a different story. She hoped the nanobots would sort everything out by themselves.


End file.
